All Dressed Up and No Place To Go
by llamaBoyPH
Summary: Inspired by Er Ist Wieder Da: Sally Shine and the other elevator passengers survived the ordeal, but ended up being transported to the present day, with not a bit of an idea as to what's going on in their surroundings.


**ALL DRESSED UP AND NO PLACE TO GO**

 _ **Legal Disclaimer:**_ _The following fanfic is an unofficial work, and as such is not affiliated in any way with Disney, ABC or whichever copyright owner I might reference in this story._

 _As I was doing a bit of a throwback to the Tower of Terror made-for-TV adaptation I watched some time in 2009, I kinda' thought, what if premise of the satirical novel Er Ist Wieder Da was applied to the ride and the film? That is, instead of Hitler waking up in present-day Germany, we see five of the ghosts from TOT waking up, alive, homeless and destitute, at a parking lot, not having an idea on what to do or where they are. Not helping to the situation is that while everyone recognises them as the five individuals zapped into the Twilight Zone, nobody believes them; instead, they think they're either cosplayers, or method actors._

* * *

 _Sally's POV_

I remember what my tutor said about Ben Franklin once in 1938. It was indeed nuts for him to fly a kite with a key tied to the string, but it was done for science's sake. What happened to us was just as nuts, and for a different reason. A big flash of lightning struck the elevator we were at, and everything whited out. I winced in pain given the electricity going through my wee body; by that I would've been fried by then.

The next scene was, to say the least, unexpected. My back was sore and aching, and while I honestly care little about the dress Nanny and Mother had me wear for the publicity trip, it was soiled worse than a play outfit, something Mother would lash out at me for it was expensive. Everyone else was wincing just as bad, like as if they got off the wrong side of the bed or are thrown out of an apartment.

"Where... ...am I?" I cried. My vision was shifty and blurred, couldn't make out anything for a few seconds until I got off the grass I was on.

"Sally, lass?" Nanny asked, lying on the ground and visibly shaken.

"I'm OK Nanny, well, sort of," I rubbed my eyes for a bit, and noticed something peculiar.

It was nothing like the 1939 my friends and I knew. I first I thought I was seeing things, probably from the lightning blast the five of us got. But it was real. "Tangible," as what Gilbert put it. He may be a sourpuss, but he certainly is someone whom you can take seriously.

"The cars certainly don't look like the Duesenberg I have," remarked Gilbert, who just woke up from the mess. "Don't tell me you spiked our drinks again, you muppet," staring at Dewey, the latter clearly insulted.

"First and foremost, Mr. London, my name is Dewey Todd, Jr." Dewey blurted angrily. "And second, you could've complained at a different desk; I work for luggage, not the kitchen, or the bar for that matter,"

I guess this has to be the beginning of a rather beautiful relationship. *grins sarcastically* We can't just sit ducks here, so with Nanny's approval, the other guests and I decided to venture out of our "temporary resting place". We just need to get a grip of what's going on.

"All dressed up and no place to go," said Gilbert.

"And not a single idea about what's going on either," Carolyn replied. Carolyn, whose stage name was Claire Poulet, was an up-and-coming singer back in the day. She was about to do her singing debut just after her stint at the movies back then.

As we strolled by we were noticed by a few kids, who were puzzled at our appearance. It's either the sight of us kind of rang a bell to them, albeit in a different way, or that a ragtag, dishevelled group of people from the 1930s reminded them of what they term as a "zombie walk" or something. Gilbert was about to tell them to buzz off; Carolyn intervened, knowing we would attract even more unwanted attention.

"Hey you, are you on a zombie walk or what? You guys look awfully familiar, eh, from a ride or something,"

"We best not disturb them, dear," Carolyn shot back as she coaxed Gilbert to leave the kids alone.

I rolled my eyes and sighed, not having a clear idea on what "ride" they were referring to. Surely, I left a legacy following my disappearing act some seventy-five years ago.

And now my stomach's growling. I know we'd get funny looks from bystanders, but what can I do? No sane person would leave themselves starving to certain death, and yet while I express sympathy to those who had no choice but to eat scraps off garbage bins (yes, the Depression really was that bad, especially as not everyone would be patient enough to be on a soup kitchen queue), I wouldn't want to be that desperate either.

"Guess we have no choice then," Dewey sighed. "Look, I ain't no leader figure here, and I know you'd mock at me for trying to be one, Mr. London, but we have to look after each other and ask people what's going on,"

A hotdog stand-slash-newspaper store stood by a few blocks away from where we are, and given our situation, we went there and decided to ask a few questions. And buy a snack or two, of course. Gilbert did the honors of asking, knowing how "firm" and sarcastic he is.

"Uh, excuse us, dear, but do you happen to have an idea what's going on around here?" he asked.

"Perhaps I should ask you guys the same question," the vendor shot back. He was wearing a baggy red jacket and a shirt tucked in, all while smoking a few cigarettes to pass the time; cigs are a lot more common in my time - call me a killjoy but I always view them as rather blech unlike most kids who'd pretend to smoke a cigar all while playing mobsters.

"You're not the cast members from that Tower of Terror ride, are you?"

"I have no idea what ride are you talking about, lad,"

"What is this, some viral marketing stunt? That NyQuil must've knocked you out real good, old man,"

I sighed. It sure is hard as nuts when both sides are clueless about each other's situations. For once I agreed with Gilbert, "this is going to be quite a long day for us,"

"Look, sonny, we have next to no money right now," Dewey coaxed, taking a few bank notes from his pocket, "Apart from these,"

"1939," mused the vendor, "Wow, this historical re-enactment thing at Disneyland sure went to a new level,"

Disneyland? I know Walt Disney, but I sure haven't heard of him building a theme park. If he did, he chose the impossible, so to speak.

"Well, alright, I'll give you guys some snacks or two. And some clean clothes for that matter. Glad I live with a few of my folks at the apartment I live in," the vendor sighed. "Don't worry guys, you're cool. And the name's Trevor,"

Trevor it is, then. I'm glad he seems to be a 'swell fellow to be with for the time being, even if he seemed a little bit of a jerk at first.

"Here's Alastair Duncan and Troy Baker doing work for some Lord of the Rings game," said Trevor, swiping things on what he calls a smartphone. "That mocap sure is convincing,"

The older guy looked _awfully familiar_ , though it couldn't possibly be Gilbert at all. I was eating a hotdog, while the others were content with gulping some iced tea off bottles. It was kind of amusing that those so-called "mocap" actors are wearing funny suits with balls sticking out of them, and a long stick hanging off their heads. I couldn't imagine a film of mine, more so a Western, being done with those.

"That would constitute a really, really bad film. I mean, what kind of film involves wearing tight suits and acting in front of an empty void?" mused Gilbert, obviously confused about what's on the video. "And what is this wannabe actor looking a touch like me?"

"That's why I asked if you're not those people," replied Trevor.

"Not at all, lad, not at all." Emeline assured in her thick Irish accent, not having spoken much since she woke up. "Tell you what, it was the strangest thing I ever encountered in me own life,"

"If that's what you guys say," Trevor sighed, still not getting the grips of what we are going through.

* * *

 _ **A/N:**_ _Alastair played a supporting role in Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor, to be specific. Felt like doing an actor allusion for the lulz, as he was the same person who played the role of Gilbert London in the film. The phrase "chose the impossible" was, as you may have guessed it, is a subtle reference to Andrew Ryan's speech in Bioshock. Some jokingly parallel him to Walt Disney, as both envisioned a "utopia" for everyone to enjoy, well, sort of.  
_


End file.
